from sunset embers, an endless serenade
by feedingtheflames
Summary: In the midst of unraveling her predicament, she doesn't ever expect that she'd want to stay. Time Travel. Godric x Hermione.
1. we just got the start wrong

Chapter One: we just got the start wrong

 _Ouch!_

A spark of pain travels from her nail and into her finger.

Breath streaming out in a huff, Hermione continues to fiddle with the metallic square, trying to shift the jeweled pieces into equilibrium on each side. This contraption was beginning to shove through the seams of her patience and into mounting fury, and yet, there was no way she was giving up.

At the back of her mind, a voice was telling her she'd be late for the Prefect's Meeting, but she was drawn to this puzzle and wanted to complete it as soon as possible.

She'd searched through countless books in the library but there was no mention of what she was holding in her hands. And strangely enough, magic didn't seem to have any effect on it, no spell could penetrate through whatever secrets it held.

It was immune.

And infuriating.

So, there she was, kneeling on the stone floor of the abandoned girl's lavatory, her stockings no doubt leaving a red imprint into her skin. Her knees and thighs had already become numb from the chill that permeated the room.

"Almost…almost…yes!"

A relieved smile lights up her expression in response to the clicking sound the box made. Through being impatient, she hurriedly searches it over, before focusing on the multi-coloured side – clearly, this one was the seal for entry. Fingers skimming over the design of flowers, she presses into the centre of the flowers, until she pauses over a small ruby surrounded by gold lined petals.

Another 'clicking' sound, and a latch appears.

 _So, it_ is _magical after all…_

Visibly excited, Hermione opens it, peering into the compartment. Inside lay a flower, a ring attached to a chain, a bookmark and what looked to be a carved figure.

As the girl grasps an object to make a full observation, something in her navel pulls and her vision blurs.

Seconds later, the sound of the box hitting the floor echoes across the room, sealed once more.

…

The sound of distant shouting awakens Hermione from the void of unconsciousness. Squeezing her eyes at the twinges of pain in her head and back, she snaps them open at the realisation that she's no longer indoors.

 _It's transported me somewhere._

A cold breeze wraps itself around her as she gazes up at the red and orange highlights in the setting sky.

Sitting up carefully, Hermione wills herself to remain calm as she checks her surroundings. She appeared to be in a small clearing, next to a dirt road. She could see trees beyond the road but nothing looked familiar.

Where was she? Where was the box? Scanning the ground next to her brings her nothing.

 _It must have remained behind!_

Her mounting panic only increases as the distant shouting becomes not so distant - whatever language they were speaking sounded unfamiliar.

Dirt is kicked up as a group of men appear from the trees, two of them laughing raucously as they nudge each other with bottles that they occasionally swung back to drink from, a third man brings up the rear, one hand pulling the reins of a horse and seemingly reprimanding his companions.

Their clothes looked strange, each of them wore rough material and an assortment of leathered armour, Hermione was quick to notice the daggers that hung from their hips.

The sight of them seriously confused her.

And as they took notice of her kneeling in the dirt, staring at them with wide eyes, it was apparent that the sight of her seriously confused them as well.

Drawing closer, one of them barks something to her only for her to shake her head back.

Their forms draw closer and Hermione stiffens as they take her in, eyes fixed on her revealed legs, arms and neckline. The man with the horse hands over the reins to one of the others and looms over her, drawing his dagger and saying something with a smirk on his heavily scarred face.

Clearly, he was the leader of this group.

"I-I can't understand you." She mumbles, too frightened to speak clearly.

The man doesn't seem to understand her either, but also doesn't care much as he's too busy staring at her exposed skin.

Inwardly screaming, Hermione holds her breath and tries to covertly reach for her wand in response to the lust gathering in his expression.

The man's eyes quickly zero in on her moving hand, giving her enough time to let out a shrill scream and whip out her wand as he lunges at her…then suddenly fall flat on his face, much to Hermione and his buddy's confusion. The pair pull out their own daggers, scanning the area with rage.

A small dark-haired boy steps out from the treeline, casually throwing and catching a rock in one hand.

His other hand lay on his hip with a confidence that was magnificent considering his stature. He calls out to the pair with anger, motioning to the horse, to which the duo yell back with even more anger, one of them spitting on the ground.

 _They're thieves_ , Hermione realises, rising to her feet.

The thieves had seemingly forgotten about her and rush towards the boy, who tosses his rock at one of their heads like he had done to their leader.

It misses.

But the stunning spell the witch sends doesn't.

The boy looks over at her with amazement, as if just noticing her presence, he gapes at the wand with recognition.

In his distraction, he doesn't notice the remaining thief barrel into him, knocking him to the ground.

Swiftly, Hermione raises her wand again to stop the thief from delivering a killing blow with his weapon, only to be beaten to the punch.

The thief snivels in fright at the tip of a gleaming sword being pointed under his chin. The sword made the daggers look like toothpicks, with its silver sheen and embedded rubies. The owner of the sword was dressed regally to match, wearing silver chainmail over his crimson clothing; a furious haze was in his grey eyes, fixed on the thief's face.

A single word, and the robber makes a retreat, running for his life.

Sheathing his sword with a sigh, the man turns to the boy with worry, reaching for him. But the boy swats his hands away and instead points over his shoulder in answer, points straight at where she stands, doe eyed and out of place.

The man looks over as well, with some surprise, his eyebrows shoot up as the boy speaks quickly and excitedly to him. Now heading towards her, the man smiles at her with a bow of his head, speaking with what sounds like gratitude.

"I'm sorry, I can't understand what you're saying!" Hermione announces with frustration.

His eyebrows come together in a frown and he looks back over to the boy, who shrugs. Speaking once again only brings him a shake of her head so he cocks his head to the side, thinking. Bringing out a wand, he thinks some more, waving it at her before she can even register that he's a wizard.

"Can you understand me now, my lady?"

Hermione nods with some trepidation. A moment of silence and she understands that he's waiting for her to speak.

"Ah, yes."

"My brother tells me that you saved him from that bandit. I thank you. He also says-"

"Hey!" The boy storms up to them, interrupting shamelessly. "I _did not_ say that she saved me. If anything, she merely assisted me. I saved her first!" He stomps his feet with a pout on his small face.

He then stares at her legs with disapproval.

The man flicks the boy on the forehead "You mustn't stare Elric, you are insulting the lady's honour."

The boy – Elric – scowls. "She is wearing such odd revealing clothing, is she not asking to be stared at?"

Hermione flushes, irked by both comments. But keeps quiet, her mind racing.

"What was that spell, the one you cast just now?"

The man looks at her, running a hand through his windswept hair.

"I have not given it a name, I suppose it is a spell that draws understanding between foreign tongue for the caster."

"You suppose?

"Yes, this is the first time I've cast it."

"Brother is very powerful." Elric chimes in "Not only is he a great swordsman, but he is a great duelist as well."

"Y-you just _made_ _up_ that spell!?" Hermione interjects, shell-shocked.

"Yes? Of course, I willed it so. I wanted you to understand me and now you do." The man said with a shrug.

Hermione was so confused. Who was this man? Why couldn't she understand them earlier? _Where was she?_ And what on earth had just happened? That silver sword had looked very familiar, in fact, she's sure she's seen it displayed within Professor Dumbledore's office. In the back of her mind, she felt as if she already knew why but stamped on the feeling harshly. Somehow, it felt as if she were dreaming.

"What did you say your name was again?" The words were spoken in wary reluctance.

"Ah, I did not. Forgive me, my manners have left me." The black-haired man took her hand and bestowed a kiss on her knuckles. "I am Godric Gryffindor. This is my younger brother Elric. What might your name be, my lady?"

Alongside the deafening roar of denial that blocks out the world, there is resignation.

Her vision blurs for the second time that day.

A/N

In just about every fanfic I've read about Hermione time traveling, she always ends up fainting. I don't want to break the tradition.

Hope you enjoyed this, though I feel somewhat rusty with my writing :)


	2. sanguine dreams

Chapter Two: sanguine dreams

Mumbling incoherently, Hermione fights the confines of sleep as best as she can. She had just had the _strangest_ dream and was still reeling from its effects. Waking up felt strange too, for some reason her bed felt as if it were galloping, her limbs didn't feel well-rested and her face felt exceedingly numb from the cold. What on _earth_ was she doing sleeping outside?

Something moves on either side of her waist, jostling her backwards.

Vigilant at once, the sixth-year student snaps her eyes open at the realisation she was being supported by a body seated behind her.

"You're awake."

Breath catching in her throat, Hermione inclines her head to match a face to the voice.

Godric Gryffindor looks down at her with warm relief, both arms encircling her waist to hold unto the reins to his horse.

By now, the sun had set and the darkness made his grey eyes appear black as he observes her carefully. He didn't look anything like she'd expect the Founder of Gryffindor House to look like, he was incredibly young for one – eyes wide and naïve seeming. This close to him, she could tell that he was attractive, with his high cheekbones and short wavy hair. As her gaze moves back to his eyes, he seems to be assessing her features as well.

Before she can stop herself, words are being blurted out.

"How old are you?"

If the question surprises him, he doesn't show it.

"Ten and nine. And yourself?"

Put off by his wording, she recovers quickly.

"Ten and six."

"I see." Encouraged by her response, he makes conversation. "Are you well? I did not expect you to faint."

"I'm fine, I think. Why didn't you use a wand on those bandits?"

"Because it didn't seem fair. With muggles, I use my sword and with wizards, I use my wand. That way, I keep fights unprejudiced and get to practice with both weapons." He continues on conversationally. "Not to mention that we were in muggle territory, Elric and I were exploring a nearby village when those bandits stole his horse. He took off without me and it's dangerous for him as he doesn't have a wand yet."

"If you don't mind my asking, what was a young unaccompanied witch like you doing in the middle of the path?" Curiosity coats his tone, along with intrigue.

Mind racing, Hermione struggles to come up with some way to explain herself. This situation was so unbelievable that it hadn't even fully registered in her mind. By some means, opening that box had brought her back in time. Back to when the Founders were around. With Godric so young, had Hogwarts even been built? No book had ever stated anything specific about their ages.

"I'm really not sure how I ended up on that path. I opened a box and then…then I woke up here." How could she tell him that she came from the future? It was so farfetched. Time turners hadn't even been invented yet and that meant she couldn't get back. She was stranded.

The helplessness of the situation consumes her. Eyes watering, she lets out a sob.

Godric slows down his horse at the sound, obviously dismayed.

"Wait, please don't cry!"

Face buried in her hands, Hermione only sobs harder.

"I'm stuck here. I can't go back." The words are said softly but they reach the man's ears nonetheless.

"Alright, it's alright. Listen, you can stay with me." One of his hands leaves the reins in favour of resting it on her shoulder. "We're heading to my home, I told Elric to ride home quickly to send word to my uncle. It's alright. You're safe here."

…

Trailing after Godric as he leads his horse to a small stable, Hermione looks over the vast land of his home, from what she'd read in Hogwarts: A History, this place is Godric's Hollow.

Though currently, it didn't resemble any of the pictures from the book.

Instead, an impressive amount of land was enclosed by a stone wall. Small buildings lay scattered across the land, wooden fences and pathways separating them from what Hermione could see in the dim lighting. Further in the distance, a large house made out of stone stands imposingly, Hermione is bouncing on her toes to get a closer look when a low clearing of the throat has the girl spinning around.

Godric faces her with his eyes averted, a crimson cloak held out in his hand.

"Since we have reached the town, you'll have to cover yourself with this. Ah, your clothing…it is unsuitable…" He trails off in slight embarrassment, then smiles hesitantly. "I still don't know your name."

Clutching Godric's cloak, she sees it's adorned with a familiar crest. At once, Hermione feels relief at how she hadn't worn her school robes, _that_ would have been difficult to explain.

"It's Hermione. Hermione Granger." Pulling the hood over her head to block out the chill, the brunette checks to see if her clothing is fully concealed.

"Hermione, what an unusual name." The man muses, failing to notice her flinch as he waves his wand to cast protective spells on the stable before they leave the stable. "Unusual, but pretty."

Godric leads them to the large stone building that Hermione had seen earlier, up close, it looks even bigger, with the Gryffindor crest etched unto two banners set symmetrically on the front of the house. Striding to the heavy mahogany door, he recites a spell to open it.

Behind him, Hermione falters as he steps through the doorway. Seeing her state, he locks eyes with her to give an encouraging look.

"Come, you have nothing to fear here."

…

"Aha!" Hermione almost yelps as a voice booms at her entry into the room Godric lead her to – his Uncle's Office. "The lady with the odd dialect and clothing." Beside her, Godric sighs, shooting a frown to where Elric lay sprawled on a rug in front of the fireplace. Elric shoots a smug look back.

A man that looked as if he were twelve years Godric's senior welcomes her with a grin. He was seated at a desk, slouched over several pieces of parchment and despite the neatly trimmed beard he wore, the rest of him looked unkept and sleep-deprived.

"Welcome to our home. Edwin Gryffindor, most pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I'm Hermione Granger, I apologise for intruding like this-"

Edwin cuts off her words with a wave of his hand, eyes flickering over the parchments with frenzy, his other hand holding a quill poised in the air.

"Not at all my dear, not at all. Why, there hasn't been a beautiful woman under this roof for years!" He momentarily takes his eyes off the papers to wink at her. "From the description Elric gave me, I have come to the understanding that all woman should dress like you, well except maybe for Edna."

Both nephews sigh, the elder in embarrassment and the younger with repulsion as Hermione fights a flush, all the while wondering who Edna is.

"Uncle, I'm tired." Elric whines, pushing himself up to his elbows.

"Pah, _you're_ tired? I've been working on these research papers _all day_."

"Well _I've been…"_

As the two start to go back and forth, Hermione yawns, covering her mouth as she too realises how exhausted she is. Her flush deepens when she feels the weight of three pairs of eyes on her.

"Sounds like it's been quite the day for us all." Edwin looks at them, fixing a stare on Godric momentarily before smiling at her.

"I've sent Selti on an errand and she won't be back till an hour or so, Godric, show our guest to her chambers, then come back here. And you," He points at a sleepy Elric rubbing his eye with a closed fist. "Off to bed, young man."

"I'll see you on the morrow."

...

Hermione's escort lingers at the doorway as she looks around.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back with some clothing."

Now that she was alone, the girl's shoulders slump with relief. Earlier, they had been tensed the second she woke up in this time, bracing for the worst.

It was nice to finally be alone with her thoughts.

The room was akin to how her dormitory looked, a four-poster bed in the centre of the room, red and gold furnishing, a trunk by the bed. Alongside that, there was a wardrobe, a vanity and to her pleasant surprise, a large fireplace.

Everything was familiar and unfamiliar both at once.

The candles Godric had lit flicker as she passes them to sit on the bed. Reaching though the cloak and into her uniform, Hermione takes out her wand, clutching it for comfort.

If she hadn't been found by the Gryffindor brothers, then she wouldn't have known what to do. Wandering around in an alien time, she could have been killed by dark wizards or taken hostage by witch-fearing Muggles, from all the books she'd read on Medieval England she knew how bad things were at this time.

She was grateful for running into someone recognisable, but even so, a spark of bitterness fills her, knowing that she'll have to invent a story of some sort to explain her situation. And she couldn't lie to save her life!

This was all because of that accursed box.

…no. This was all because of her thirst for knowledge, if only she'd left the box alone. There has got to be some way to get back to her time, if there's a way in, then there's surely a way out, right?

"Lady Granger."

Startled, her eyes jump to the figure standing in the doorway. Behind him, a dozen or so dresses float in the air.

"These belonged to my mother when she was alive. You seem to be as slight as her so with any luck, they'll fit." After a slight pause, he bemusedly states. "If not, just adjust them with your wand." He nods at the object held tightly in her fingers.

The young man places the garments on the chair in front of the vanity.

"I'm sure you're weary. Sleep well. We'll talk tomorrow."

Before he leaves, Hermione remembers something.

"Wait, your cloak." Unfurling the heavy material, she bundles it up and gives it to him. He takes it with a smile, averting his eyes quickly when she straightens.

"There should be a nightgown in that pile." Bidding her a speedy farewell, he hurries out, closing the door behind him, leaving the girl with a confused expression.

 _Was it something I said?_ She thinks.

Rummaging through the pile of clothes, she puts on the white nightgown. The material felt peculiar but it fit her perfectly.

When Hermione's head hits the pillow, she expects to spend the next hours awake lamenting her situation, but sleep takes her with open arms.

…

Swallowing a bite of egg and bread, Hermione marvels at the taste. The food from this time period wasn't as bad as she'd thought it'd be.

Selti bustles around the dining room, muttering about how her Master didn't eat his breakfast before going, briefly stopping mid-rant to urge Elric to finish his milk.

Since she'd woken up, Hermione had discovered many things different from her own time. House-elves had more willpower, or at least Selti did. As soon as the sun had risen, the elf had appeared in her room and practically dragged her out of bed and into a tub full of soapy water. The elf had insisted on washing and dressing her, chastising that a young woman should always be looked after.

The deep purple dress she was wearing was made out of cotton and had many layers to it, underneath she wore smallclothes, underclothes and a garter. The gown was heavy and unfortunately also had a corset.

Fortunately, with Selti there, she didn't have to struggle putting it on by herself.

They had then gone through the trouble of brushing her hair, with Hermione quickly declining the suggestion of wearing a cap to tame her hair, opting to leave it open. Godric had come to collect her seeing as how women aren't supposed to go around without an escort.

All in all, it was ridiculous but something she'd have to deal with.

And when she'd sat down at the table, the Founder had pressed her with questions and she'd responded with something that would satisfy them and explain her odd clothing.

Currently, the Gryffindors were under the impression that she was from a foreign country and had been escaping from muggleborn-despising wizards when stumbling across an unusual box. With her voice shakily telling her story, she let them assume most of it, leaving the box to their imagination which they promptly supposed was a malfunctioning portkey.

Edwin had left immediately after the discussion to meet a colleague about his research, but not before telling her she could stay as long as she liked. She'd been amazed to discover he worked as an alchemist and researcher, alongside a group of like-minded individuals.

Before he'd left, Hermione had faced the trio with gratitude.

"I don't know how to repay you…"

The oldest of the bunch had laughed, saying how he loved assisting pretty maidens and that he'd show her around the village when he got back.

A hand tugs at her sleeve, and looking to her right, an expectant Elric blinks up at her from his seat.

"Cast a spell." He demands, gesturing to where her wand lay next to her plate.

"That's not how you speak to a Lady." Godric admonishes from across the table.

" _Please_ cast a spell."

Humouring the child, she takes hold of her wand, feeling both brothers curiously watching her.

" _Colovaria_."

The milk inside Elric's cup changes into a bright shade of orange, making the boy gasp and reach forward to take a sip, he blanches when it still tastes the same.

"You seem rather knowledgeable."

Hermione hums noncommittally at Godric's words.

"I used to read quite a lot on spells."

This has the man leaning forward in his chair, grey eyes alight.

"What is your most favoured subject matter?"

"Charms."

"Hm. And where did you learn your magic?"

Anxious, Hermione tries not to show any outward horror at his line of questioning, she couldn't say Hogwarts in case it existed, but he couldn't know if any schools were built in other countries. For her own sake, she'll have to pretend so.

"I was taught in a small wizarding school."

Having decided something, Godric smiles.

"I think I know how you can repay us."

A/N

Uh, so I know that the Founders lived during the 11th century, but living conditions were so bad at that time so let's pretend this takes place during a cleaner medieval time. In fact, I'm going to avoid any realistic setting and go for a more fairy-tale-ish, fantasy look…I'm too lazy to do any type of research so ignore any inaccuracies of history.

Thanks for the support, hope you liked this chapter. I'm still setting up the storyline so bear with me.


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